


silence is red

by TheSpaceCoyote



Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Blood and Gore, Hostage Situations, Hurt Armitage Hux, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, M/M, Major Character Injury, Mouth Sewn Shut, Rescue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-24
Updated: 2019-01-24
Packaged: 2019-10-15 17:51:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17533376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSpaceCoyote/pseuds/TheSpaceCoyote
Summary: Kylo Ren rescues General Hux from some rebel captors, only to find he's suffered a distressing injury at their hands.





	silence is red

**Author's Note:**

> I saw "mouth sewn shut" on the Bad Things Happen bingo and instantly thought of Hux. Probably would be considered a fitting punishment...well, if Kylo hadn't come along. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Whoever thought they could keep Kylo Ren away from General Hux probably needed to have their skull examined—or preferably cracked open against a wall, which is the option the knight takes as he cuts his way through the pitiful chaff of guards in the grimy base. Those that weren’t tossed about and crushed to pulp by invisible vises fall to pieces under the crackling plasma of his blade, the smell of burnt blood filtering through Kylo’s mask, driving the savagery of his mission.Yet—though the general’s capture is indeed an affront to the Order, a strike at the very mind and mouth of their operations—something richer, more _intimate_ drives the arc of his strikes, the tactile clench of his fingers.

The general’s life source pulses, greying but _there_ in the forefront of Kylo’s mind as he pierces to the heart of the complex. With all others inside its walls extinguished or fled Kylo finally reaches the cell door hiding Hux from him, easily crumpling the heavy metal like a piece of dried vegetation and tossing the shorn remains aside.

Greenish light just barely illuminates the interior of the cell, casting the pallor of Hux’s skin in a sickly glow. He’s lying on the floor with his head pillowed onto his arm, facing away from the doorway.

“General—“ Kylo wastes no time sweeping over to the man’s side, crouching on one knee besides the man’s body. Hux lives, his chest rising an falling underneath the shredded remains of his uniform, and as Kylo places a hand on his shoulder to turn him over onto his back, he hopes Hux hasn’t suffered any serious injuries.

His heart stops in his chest once the general’s head lolls towards him, giving Kylo a good look at his face.

It shows the obvious signs of injury one might expect from a hostage, but the bruise on Hux’s cheek and the cut through his eyebrows appear tame in contrast to what the Rebel scum have done to the general’s mouth.

Hux’s lips are criss-crossed with dark, thick thread that binds them shut, preventing him from doing anything more than drool a thin trickle of reddish saliva. The holes of the stitches aren’t clean, stabbed at irregular intervals through the philtrum and occasionally piercing the soft pink of Hux’s lips themselves. Dark spots of dried blood cluster where the thread feeds through the general’s inflamed skin, leaving Kylo to wonder whether the wounds are already infected. He doubts the needle had been clean.

Kylo grits his teeth, realizing he’d been too kind to Hux’s captors. Looking back through his anger he thinks he should have kept some alive, if only to scorch the skin from their backs, to leave them black and red and screaming for a mercy that wouldn’t come ’til Hux’s pain had been paid back into their miserable bodies.

At the careful touch of Kylo’s hand to Hux’s temple his twitching eyelids start to open. Foggy irises—still far greener than the tepid light bathing them both—drift about before they finally settle on the knight looming above them. Gloved fingers trail down carefully to the upper slope of the general’s cheek, wary of touching any injuries.

Recognition dawns in Hux’s face as he instinctively tries to open his lips and speak. Kylo winces in sympathy when the punctured flesh pulls against the tight thread of the stitches, pain flinching through Hux’s expression. Horror quickly replaces the confusion in the general’s eyes, and his hand flying up to his mouth to grasp at his injured lips as he remembers.

Even a weak cry of agony can’t escape the stitches sealing Hux’s lips shut, leaving it stifled and stuck in his throat.

Kylo helps to sit Hux up, supporting his back with one hand. The general sways, hand still clasped to his chin. His mind wavers, struggling to wrap around the reality of his sudden debilitation. He draws his shoulders in, body hunched in on himself as dirty nails dig against the stitches, as if they could just be peeled off.

Kylo carefully removes Hux’s hand before he hurts himself, placing it down into his lap.

“Careful. Don’t try to pull them out on your own,” Kylo speaks, filling in the silence for Hux. Part of him thinks it wiser to wait for a medic to properly tend to the general’s mouth, but overwhelmingly he _hates_ the look of those ugly stitches marring Hux’s perfect lips—those same lips Kylo has claimed in the privacy of the general’s quarters many times. The marks of his canines in Hux’s plush flesh are beautiful and _his_ , purpling with desire and not this grotesque attempt at revenge.

Kylo has nothing small enough on hand to slice through the stitches without risking further injury, and his own fingers are far too large and blunt to deftly pull the thread out of Hux’s lips. But there is something else he could try.

Hux watches his raised hand with suspicion Kylo can’t particularly blame him for—the general’s witnessed how the Force storms beneath his fingertips, destruction roiling through the space around Kylo as it steals life from his enemies. But right now he moves his hand slowly, fingers crooking in deliberate movements as he feels for the end of the thread, clumsily knotted close to the scabbed hole near the corner of Hux’s mouth.

Kylo concentrates, unraveling the frayed end before carefully tugging on the next stitch, pulling the now loose thread through the puncture in Hux’s skin.

He’s not used to _delicacy_. The very hands that had crushed throats and snapped necks mere moments before now tremble, struggling to focus as they try to unwind the dirty thread out of Hux’s lips. The general lets out a muffled moan of pain, unable to do much more as the Force steadily frees him of the hateful stitching.

“Keep still. It’ll be over soon.” More bloody saliva drips from Hux’s lips by the time half of the sutures are gone, spilling down to his chin and onto the chest of his uniform.

_Finally_ Kylo pulls the last of the thread from Hux’s lips, allowing them to fall open once more. Hux sucks in a thin, audible breath, coughing up spots of dark mucus when he tries to exhale.

“Hurts…like _hell_ …” Hux rasps, resting limply against Kylo’s shoulder. The knight disintegrates the dirtied thread with a soft stroke of his fingers before sliding his hands underneath Hux’s body, lifting the general up into his arms. Though he usually protested whenever Kylo picked him up, insisting he not be treated like a child, Hux relaxes into his hold, finally breathing easy through his freed lips.

The Resistance will never be able to silence the voice of the First Order—not as long as Kylo is there to rescue him.


End file.
